


A Monster Under Your Bed

by ApocalypseBarbiee



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Fate, Fluff, POV Female Character, Romance, Smut, Soulmates, The Antichrist, michael langdon x female reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:02:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26985625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApocalypseBarbiee/pseuds/ApocalypseBarbiee
Summary: Michael Langdon has always liked to spy on you from under your bed
Relationships: Michael Langdon & Reader, Michael Langdon & You, Michael Langdon/Reader, Michael Langdon/You
Comments: 4
Kudos: 85





	A Monster Under Your Bed

****

You had first met Michael Langdon when you had moved next door to him during the Summer before your sophomore year of high school. Your parents introduced you to your neighbor Constance, who told you she lived there with her grandson. You hadn’t seen him yet, but based on the way she spoke of him, you had assumed he was a young child, and you were a bit disappointed. Making friends in a new place was always awkward for you, so it would have been cool if someone close to your age was living right next door. 

While you were unpacking boxes, you heard a strange noise coming from the backyard. You paused to listen. It sounded like a hurt animal. Making your way out back, you were met with, what looked like, a tall, blonde-haired teenage boy. His back was to you, and the horrible, desperate sound was emanating from his direction. As you approached and looked over his shoulder you saw his large hands were wrapped around the neck of a black cat. Your cat.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!”

He turned, flinching at the sound of your voice, and quickly dropped the cat, which ran off. He stood, towering over you as his wrung his bloody, scratched-up hands together in a child-like manner.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to!”

“What has he done now?”

You turned at the sound of an abrasive drawl. Constance made her way through your yard, cigarette in hand. She threw one look at Michael, which he caught, his eyes filling with fear and shame, before he ran out of your yard and back to the confines of his home.

“What did he do?” she slurred, sounding slightly tipsy.

You bristled at her smirk and lackadaisical manner.

“He was trying to hurt my cat.”

She blew smoke in your direction as you spoke.

“Yes. He tends to do things like that. My grandson….has problems. He’s not like other boys his age. I try with him, but nothing seems to work. I’m at my wits end, if I’m being honest. I hope you’ll forgive this little…transgression.”

You were beyond confused that this golden-haired boy was her grandson. You had been expecting a child.

“How old is he?” you curiously, asked.

Her painted lips twisted up at your question.

“Why, he’s around your age, of course. I homeschool him, so he doesn’t have many friends. Maybe you could be a little friend for him- take him off my hands for me.”

You tried your hardest to be polite, and not to scoff at her suggestion. You wouldn’t be babysitting that little demon. You wouldn’t be going anywhere near that psychopath.

…..

That Summer seemed to move at a glacial pace. It was strange how dead your street was. Driving past the other neighborhoods, you’d notice people everywhere- out talking, cutting their grass, and sunbathing. Right when you’d turn down your street, it would clear out, looking like a perpetual ghost town. You swore the weather even changed, but you knew that was irrational. The only people you ever saw outside were Constance working in her rose garden, and Michael, staring out his window, usually at you. He looked sad much of the time. His loneliness was very apparent on his face. You caught yourself feeling bad for him more times than you could before remembering the sound your cat made as his hands wrapped around his throat.

Eventually, you got so bored, you tried walking to the other streets in search of friends. You met a few people, but it never seemed to work out. You would hang out at their houses, or go out into the city, but once you’d invite them to yours, things would suddenly shift. Once they got that invitation, none of them ever came back, and you didn’t know why. You assumed it had to be something you were doing, but you couldn’t think of anything. Your texts and calls would go unanswered, and when you’d confront them and try to talk things out, they would stare at you with fear in their eyes before locking the door against you. Taking your walk of shame back home, you’d see Michael sitting on the front porch, looking at you like he was waiting for something important.

You began to get so desperate for interaction outside of your parents that you actually thought about making conversation with Michael- something you thought you’d never do. While coming back from a walk, you saw him sitting in the same spot he always was. You hesitantly raised your hand and waved. He jumped up, as if that was his cue to move, and made his way quickly to your side; his wide, puppy dog eyes bright.

“Hi.”

“Hey, Michael.”

Did he have to act so weird right off the bat? You already kind of regretted waving to him.

“Do you…want to come in my house and play video games?”

You couldn’t deny that the prospect of doing something so normal was tempting. Did you want to play video games with Michael? Not particularly, but you were so lonely that you agreed. You were surprised at how normal the day was, and you ended up staying till the sun went down.

It wasn’t long before you and Michael were inseparable. You felt a bit guilty when you’d come home from spending your afternoons with him, only to find your cat sitting in the entryway to your house, staring you down as you passed by. The feeling would only subside when you next met with your blue-eyed friend.

You would spend a lot of your time in your backyard, Michael’s head resting in your lap as you read the day away. The weeks passed by quickly now that you had found each other, and your relationship began to evolve. 

It had started innocently enough. You had dared him to knock on the door of the infamous “murder house” and run away. He had complied, though he was confused why you had asked this of him. You explained you were bored, and wanted a thrill of some kind, even if it was a thrill as juvenile and asinine as this.

He began to command you with more confidence, removing the words, “I dare you” from his speech, opting to simply tell you exactly what to do.

“Hold your breath for one minute.”

“Put sleeping medication in my Grandma’s whisky.”

“Stay the night with me.”

You did and you had lied to your parents, telling them you were staying with a girl down the street- one they had met a handful of times, and who hadn’t talked to you since she had spent the night at your house. You spent the night telling ghost stories in the dark and listening to his soft breathing as he curled up against you, his fingers softly rubbing the skin of your throat.

………….

During this time, much of your perceived growth as an individual was hindered by things from the past making their way back to you. When you were young, you had terrible, repeating nightmares. They always involved a monster underneath your bed, or in your closet. These dreams would wake you up screaming in terror as your parents ran out, checking each corner of your room, before declaring it “cleared” of all dark creatures. They would explain to you that monsters didn’t exist, and eventually, you got over your fears as you aged. But now, the dreams and old anxieties were back with a vengeance.

You had awoken from a particularly dark nightmare, your heart pounding out of your chest. When you glanced over at the corner in your room, you swore you saw a Michael-shaped person standing there. You tried desperately to find the light switch near your bed, and as your hand found it, and you flipped it up, your head snapped back to the corner. It was empty. _Michael._ You didn’t want to sleep alone. You couldn’t anymore. After this occurrence, you spent most nights in his bed, or with him in yours. Your days were filled with his form, his scent, the tone of his voice…

Constance had been spending more time away from the home. She was barely there, and when she was, the house was filled with tension. She couldn’t look Michael in the eye, and when she would, you would notice a mix of fear and rage aimed at your friend, and sometimes, at you. You tried to bring this up with Michael, but he would just laugh and attribute this to her being a drunk. Though you were uncomfortable with the whole thing, you were happy that it gave you more time to be alone with your friend.

………………

Summer was coming to a close, and you had just returned from picking up your class schedule. You put your things in your room before going back outside. As you walked, you noticed a form in the window of the old ‘murder house.’ It almost looked like Michael. When you did a double take, the specter was gone. Frowning, you opened Michael’s front door without knocking, and made your way upstairs to his room. It was empty. The house was oddly quiet. The smell of smoke that seemed to linger from Constance’s cigarettes, even if she had not been there all day, was curiously absent, and Michael was nowhere in sight- a rarity for a boy who never left his house. Unless….

No. There was no way that he was inside that creepy house.

As you walked past his bed a hand shot out, grabbing your ankle roughly. You screamed, panicking and tripping over your own feet and hitting the carpet, hard. When you looked towards the bed you saw Michael’s face staring out from under it. His eyes were red and watery, like he had been crying. He looked devastated.

Your heart still beat wildly with what you had just experienced. Michael looked at you for a second, before slipping out from under the bed. As he made his way to you, he pushed your chest until your back hit the floor, his heart rate increasing as he took in your confusion and fear. He straddled you, holding your wrists down and grinning as you squirmed underneath him. He pushed your wrists into one hand, tightening his grip as his other hand wrapped around your throat, looking into your eyes as he added increasing amounts of pressure on your windpipe. He looked on the verge of frenzy. He didn’t look like the boy you knew. He finally let up, but kept his hand laced around your throat.

“Michael, are you…..ok?” you gasped.

“Y/N, kiss me.”

You stared at him in shock, but you couldn’t help but notice the slight jolt of arousal you were feeling being under his warm body in this way. His voice took on a slightly condescending tone at your refusal to comply.

“I _dare_ you to kiss me.”

You both leaned towards each other at the same time, your lips meeting in a frantic kiss. You weren’t expecting the power of it. He moved his hands to your face, running his fingers on your skin as he let his body fall clumsily on top of yours, stealing your breath. Your hands went into his hair, pressing his face harder into yours. He kissed you like it would be the last time he’d get to indulge in the pleasure. Like this was goodbye. You had no idea that this was the final time you would see Michael for years.

…………………..

When you woke up in your bed and glanced over, you weren’t that surprised to see that he wasn’t beside you. Usually when he would spend the night, he would leave early in the morning to prevent your parents or his Grandma from catching on. So, you weren’t worried as you got ready that morning, nor when you headed to his house. You only became worried once you went inside, seeing it empty just like the day before. Even more so when he didn’t come out of hiding. You waited until dinnertime, and no one ever showed up at the house. You went back in the middle of the night, thinking Michael might have been mad at you for some reason you couldn’t ascertain, but no. It was still empty. You were heartbroken that you had lost your best friend, and you didn’t even know what had happened.

……………..

Life went on. You finished high school, started college classes, and grew up. You had a few close friends, and a handful of boyfriends- though the boys never seemed to last long. You kept moving, but you never truly forgot about Michael Langdon. Something felt wrong and incomplete without him in your life. The pain may have been less devastating than it was when you first lost him, but it still tugged on your heart when little things would remind you of him.

You didn’t have as many nightmares anymore. You still had strange dreams where you could have sworn you saw Michael in your room upon waking, but they didn’t feel like nightmares anymore. In fact, you cherished them. A dream you frequently had was of Michael wearing a black outfit with a thin, black ribbon around his collar. It looked like an ensemble that would be worn at a fancy private school. In this dream, you would hear a faint scratching sound coming from under your bed. When you would fall to your knees and flip up the comforter, you would see Michael underneath. He would smirk at you, running his fingers over the floor, his voice singing out,

“Do you want me to dust under here?”

You would wake with a smile on your face, your heart hurting and joyous at the same time. You began to store things you wanted to keep hidden underneath the bed. Sex toys, weed, personal essays….for some reason you couldn’t explain, it helped you to feel closer to your lost best friend.

You also started to feel….a certain type of way towards the blonde boy. You were always attracted to him, but you had never thought about just how beautiful he was until you were a little bit older. You were almost ashamed of how often you would think of him when you touched yourself. You would try so hard to shift your focus elsewhere- on different people, different circumstances- but it would always turn back to Michael. Some of the time that irrationality that plagued you in your childhood, and before his disappearance, would creep in. You would swear you heard scratching under the bed. Often, while sleeping at night, you would have the strong urge to check under the bed or close the closet- the darkness staring at you from the crack in the door putting you on edge. You knew it was dumb, and that you were too old for this shit, but you also remembered how many people only imagined there was someone under their bed. The difference was, you had actually seen someone under there- you had been grabbed by something under there. So, you never fully trusted yourself when you would repeat the mantra that it was all in your head.

The nightmares returned in full force right before the world ended, and your last thought, before being kidnapped in a black SUV, was of Michael.

…………..

The end of the world. You had no idea how you were still alive, or why you were brought to this place. Everyone you knew was gone, and now you resided with strangers in a place called the Outpost. The people here were strange in their own ways, but Ms. Venable made things almost unbearable. She was on a power trip, and since you and the other residents were the only ones left for hundreds, maybe thousands, of miles, you were her targets. It was almost pathetic how desperate she craved meaning and a position of authority in this destroyed husk of a world. You all meant absolutely nothing now. She should probably get with the program.

You were always curious about who destroyed the planet with the missiles. There were a lot of rumors that the United States Government did it. To you, it just didn’t make sense that any world government would end the entire world. If there are no people left to control and have power over, then the powerful lose the status they so crave, and go back to an even-playing field. It didn’t ring true to you. This felt….almost apocalyptic. You weren’t even religious, but you knew all the stories. If it were true, then you must have done something God really frowned upon in your short life since you were still here and hadn’t been taken in the Rapture.

You were laying in bed, tossing and turning. Though time no longer mattered, you knew it had been hours. You felt an intense sense of something on the horizon, and you were uneasy, to say the least. It was too hot, so you threw the thin blanket to the side, feeling the stale air of your room hit your legs. It was forbidden, but you found yourself desperate to ease your anxious mind and relax your body. You quietly tugged off your sleep shirt, throwing it next to you as you lightly traced over your body, trailing your fingers down your chest to your waist before slipping off your underwear. It felt good to be naked in the privacy of a bedroom again. It had been so long since you had thought to even touch yourself. You could close your eyes, and pretend you were in an alive world again.

Your lids fluttered closed as you softly ran a finger between your thighs. The sensation was automatically intense, and you shuddered under your ministrations. You thought of Michael Just when things were starting to get good. Suddenly, an intrusive image of a black cat, dead and obliterated on the side of the road, lodged itself in your head. Your hand stilled as the hair rose up on your arms. You had the strangest feeling as you listened intently to the sounds around you with bated breath. You feared what you would see if you opened your eyes, so you didn’t. The silence was almost too quiet. Like you were in a vacuum in space. You couldn’t stop thinking about piercing, blue eyes.

“Why’d you stop?”

Your eyes finally shot open at the sound of a familiar, smug voice. The room was pitch black, and your heart pounded in fear as you held your breath and tried to remember where you put the matches and candles. You heard a strike, and the smell of sulfur filled the space as you were met with the pale icy gaze of Michael Langdon. You could just make out his form standing at the corner of your bed, candle in hand. He was so close that he could swipe a large hand across your ankle if he chose to do so. His clothing was fancier and his hair was longer, the curls straightened. Was he wearing red eyeshadow? It was undeniably your long, lost friend. After Michael had left, there were times when you thought you might have dreamed up him and Constance both, like they were imaginary friends for a girl who was so lonely and isolated. To see him there in the flesh was a shock to the system.

You pushed yourself up, eyes wide, prepared to ask all of the questions you had, when Michael suddenly lurched forward and placed his soft hand over your mouth.

“SHHHH.”

You shook against his grasp as he looked down at your body. The smell that you always associated with him filled your senses again and made you nostalgic for the destroyed world up above. It made you miss your parents, your friends, your cat. It made you yearn for the boy Michael used to be- the one that you never thought you’d see again. His voice, now aged with confidence, and smooth as honey, brought you back to the present.

“I have a feeling you wouldn’t want anyone else to see you like this. Would you?”

In the shock of things, you had forgotten that you were completely naked, your hands between your legs. You grabbed the comforter, pulling it up around you as he let go of your face, placing the candle on the nightstand, and sitting on the edge of the mattress by your knees. He looked at you like he was waiting for you to react to his presence. When you didn’t, he tilted his head.

“You called to me. I came.”

Your eyes narrowed in confusion as he smiled. You noticed that his long fingers were now adorned with rings. He had changed so much since you last laid eyes on him. You had the strongest urge to touch his velvet green jacket, so you did just that, lightly running your fingertips over the shoulder. He glanced at your hand; his features absent of expression at your touch.

“I wasn’t planning on introducing myself to the idiots at this Outpost until tomorrow, but as I got closer to town, I was overwhelmed by your need. For me. Though this isn’t the first time you’ve been wet for me. Not even close.”

You pulled your hand back like you had been burned. He noticed your shock and embarrassment but kept going.

“Were you aware that this outpost used to be my school?”

You shook your head.

“I used to lay in my bed, studying, trying to focus, but I never could. Do you know why?”

You felt like you couldn’t breathe. You were enraptured by him, and you were scared. How was he here? Why was he acting like reuniting with you was no big deal? Like he had just seen you yesterday, and everything hadn’t changed monumentally.

“I was constantly burdened by your lust for me. You would touch yourself and think of my face, would you not?”

You swallowed harshly as he looked at you, waiting for a response. When you still felt like you couldn’t give one, he rolled his eyes. The air particles around you felt as if they were shifting- expanding and shrinking all at once, and when you next blinked, you were suddenly in your old bedroom. Your eyes darted around wildly, taking in the familiar views and smells of this relic from the past. Michael still sat by your knees, your high school books were piled on your desk as they always had been, and in the corner, your cat sat in the chair he loved so much in life. Your heart seized at the sight of your long gone pet, as tears filled your eyes.

“Better? Everything is as it once was.”

But you knew it wasn’t, and never would be again. You didn’t know how you know this, or how he was doing it, but you knew Michael was making you see this. He must have sensed your sadness and confusion as a look of pity briefly took hold of his eyes.

"Maybe you’d prefer this.”

You were now in his old room in Constance’s home.

“This room holds a special place in your heart, doesn’t it? You can’t stop touching yourself thinking of the time when I pinned you to the ground right here. You loved to imagine what would have happened had I went further that day.”

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

His eyes connected with yours, warmly.

“You found your voice,” he smirked, looking down at his old, childish comforter. His eyes waxed nostalgic, lingering on events long past.

“When you befriended me, I started hiding under your bed at night just to be close to you. I craved your warmth desperately. Sometimes, I would crawl underneath your blankets at night, and hold you close while you dreamt.”

“So it _was_ you under my bed.”

His eyes lifted at the indignant tone of your voice, glee dancing in the irises at your reaction.

“Of course. You can’t be that surprised. I think you’ve always known, deep down, that it was me under there.”

“You’re not really the type of boogeyman I was expecting.”

“I’m a different type of monster, I’m afraid.”

A memory of reading the Vampire Chronicles to Michael played across your mind.

“Are you, like, a vampire or something?”

“Not quite,” he scoffed, laughing when you threw your hands up in annoyance.

“I don’t believe in monsters. What’s really going on?”

"You don’t believe in monsters?”

“No.”

“Tsk. Now, Y/N, you know that a lie. You believed in me when you were little. I remember you searching me out. Your parents lied to you and told you I didn’t exist, and you believed them…..But, you always had the feeling they weren’t telling you the truth, that _you_ weren’t telling yourself the truth. You believed in me then, and you still do now. I’m right here. _See me.”_

You really examined him. He didn’t really look much like your Michael, but he didn’t look like a monster, either. Where were the tell-tale signs you were always told to watch out for? He wasn’t what you imagined when you thought of danger, yet, you knew that he undeniably was. The crawl of the skin up and down your spine told you, as did the little prickles of warning gathering at the back of your skull. But this feeling wasn’t new. You had felt this in relation to Michael Langdon since the moment you had met him. He examined you right back. He was calm, while you squirmed slightly under his penetrating gaze. He looked at you as if he was peeling layers of your soul away, considering each one before discarding the pieces haphazardly. Your eyes dropped to your hands.

“How—how much did you see?...When you were under my bed?”

“See? I never really _saw_ much. I only heard. And what I heard….well, I could almost say it was holy.”

Your cheeks flushed as his Cheshire grin spread across his features.

“I would stroke my cock under your bed while you touched yourself above me.”

You crossed your arms angrily at your invasion of privacy. He wrapped his hands around your shoulders, rubbing gently before dropping them back to his lap.

“You’re stronger than you think, Y/N. I started transmutating into your room without consciously willing it. That’s how intense your thoughts of me became. You couldn’t stop thinking about my eyes, my height, my mouth. You would summon me to you, and I would naturally appear in the place I’ve always belonged.”

He put a finger under your chin, lifting your gaze to his.

“Under you.”

You softened under his touch as he cradled your chin in his warm hand.

“Transmutating?”

“And _you_ ….I couldn’t stop thinking about your kindness towards me, your laugh, your…..willingness to follow my commands. I really should have moved on by now. I’m an extremely important person, you know. I have a lot to do. I tried hard to move on, but, I never could. I never stopped caring about you, Y/N.”

You were taken aback by his revelation, as he dropped his hand, and looked away from you; his voice lowering to where you had to strain to hear him.

“I’ve watched you grow up. I’ve witnessed your happiest moments, as well as your most heartbreaking ones, though sadness has been the one constant in your life. Sadness and…..isolation. You’ve always felt alone. That no one loves you. But you’ve never been alone. I’ve always been here, my pretty girl.”

Swallowing hard, you remembered your despair at his absence and your lack of answers surrounding it.

“Where did go? I came to your house, and you and your Grandma were just gone. I thought you forgot about me, or just didn’t care enough to tell me you were leaving.”

“That wasn’t my doing. I had no choice in the matter,” his voice cracked.

You only noticed that tears were rolling down your cheeks when Michael leaned in to brush them away. He breathed in deeply, like he was feeding on your pain, and grabbed the shirt you had taken off earlier. He rubbed the material between his fingers and held it to his nose, his eyes drifting shut.

“When you started wearing this thing to bed with nothing underneath, I truly thought I would go insane. Do you know how hard it was for me? To force myself to stay under your bed? To restrain myself from slipping out and stripping you of that shirt…….to keep myself from tying you to the headboard with it?.... I thought about it over and over. And when you started doing this--“

The blanket was instantaneously ripped from your body and thrown across the room by an invisible force. He growled deep in his throat as he slid his hand across your thigh.

“I didn’t think it would affect me as much as it did. It was easy to forget about you in the light of day, to forget about _this-“ h_ e purred as he drew a finger through your wet folds, and you shuddered at his surprise touch.

“But once the moon rose in the sky, I couldn’t stop myself from coming back to you…from wishing it was _me_ between your legs instead.”

You softly moaned as his thumb ghosted over your clit, enough to tease, but not truly get you off. He answered this by promptly removing his hand and waiting for you to gather yourself and look at him.

“As much as I love hearing your pretty little sounds, I _need_ you to contain yourself. We wouldn’t want anyone coming in here, now would we? I hear Ms. Venable is quite the bitch.”

“Can I… lock the door?” you whimpered.

“No,” he sung out, moving his hand around your throat and lightly squeezing, before cupping your face.

“Why not?”

He got up on his knees, moving to straddle you so you were between his thighs.

“I’m testing you. You’re an intelligent girl. I’ve read the essays you used to stuff under your bed. I know you’ll pass my test if you try really hard. Can you be quiet for me, Y/N?”

This was weird, and you had a gut feeling that he was responsible for the current state of humanity, and everyone’s pain and suffering. But, in a world such as this, what did it even matter anymore? It had happened, there was no going back to the way things used to be. You had been abandoned by all that was good, so you would abandon it in return.

You grabbed his shoulders, pressing your lips under his ear as his hand made it way back to your center, his index finger circling your clit fast. You tried to stifle your moans by biting int his neck. He groaned, then chuckled softly, nuzzling into your hair, before whispering,

“How could I _ever_ forget about you, when you’re the fucking best?”

He slowly pushed his middle finger into you as your breath hitched and your eyes slammed shut.

“You just can’t help it, can you? Being such a needy thing….letting a man who you always believed to be monster touch you like this, in such an intimate place. Who knew you were such a depraved little whore?”

You moaned loudly, the friction of his fingers, and his thumb against your clit rushing you to the edge, but, like before, he removed his fingers completely. When you opened your eyes, he was staring at you intently, his hands resting on his knees. 

“Why did you stop?”

“Tell me about the dream you had when you were little.”

“What dream?”

“You know what I’m talking about. The nightmare. The one you had over and over. About the mouth.”

Your breath stops as you remember the terror and dread you felt as a child. When you weren’t tossing and turning, or waking up screaming in a cold sweat, you laid awake; anxious and terrified to even go to sleep; fearful that you would have it again. The dream. And you did. Many times.

In the nightmare that haunted your childhood, you were chased through the darkness by a force that could predict your every move. You couldn’t get away no matter where you went. You were doomed right when the beast first laid eyes on you. You would inadvertently end up running into a huge cavern; moist and desolate. It was the only place to go. You would press your back against the wall, your arms wrapped tightly around your body, as you shivered in fear. You would only start to scream once the cavern folded in around you- your bones being ground into a fine powder, and your life force snuffed out. Before the end of everything, you would realize you had been conned- it was not a cave at all, but a mouth with huge, sharp teeth.

“You would wake up screaming, begging your parents to protect you, to not let the monster…eat you. Do you remember?” he whispered.

You nodded, lust glossing your eyes as a predatory glint appeared in his.

“Your parents aren’t here to stop me now. I’m afraid this monster _is_ going to eat you, Y/N.”

He grabbed you underneath your knees and yanked until your back hit the bed. He pushed your legs up and back, spreading you obscenely to his gaze. The embarrassment you would normally be feeling in this moment was dampened by your desire for him to ease the ache between your thighs in any way you could have him. It was primal. As he slithered up your body, he pressed kisses to your legs. As his warm breath drifted across your cunt, your hands flew into his hair, tangling into the smooth locks, refusing to let him go any further.

“You know, you will have to give me answers eventually. I’m not just going to shut u-“

You gasped as he swiftly lowered his head and sucked hard on your clit.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I interrupt you?” he said with fake concern.

Before you could say anything, he licked through your folds slowly, grinning against you as you grinded yourself against his tongue.

“My sweet girl.”

His fingers were digging into your thighs, holding them down as you writhed and moaned around him. As he lifted his head, you noticed your arousal was present on his face. You loosened your grip on his hair, massaging his scalp instead. He looked up before harshly thrusting two fingers inside of you, your head falling back against the pillow as you screamed, panting loudly as the motions of his tongue began to coincide perfectly with his fingers. His eyes darkened as he removed his death grip from your other thigh and quickly shoved two of his fingers in your mouth, silencing your cries. Your legs tried to shut, but they were pinned to the bed by something you couldn’t see. 

The sounds coming from his mouth on your body were obscene. You gazed down and saw that his eyes were now closed as he lapped at you with reverence. You started sucking on his fingers, dragging your tongue around and between his digits as he groaned against you, your legs shaking at the vibration. Your He looked at you again, removing his mouth from your body, but continuing to fuck you with his fingers at an unearthly speed.

“You’re being so good for me- so obedient and quiet, just like I knew you could.”

He smirked as he took in your debauched form, pushing his fingers further into your mouth, and making you gag around them.

“Though I can’t help but wonder how you’re going to keep yourself quiet when I make you come. And you _are_ going to come, Y/N. You’re already close.”

He removed his fingers, placing them back around your hip.

“Michael, please fuck me.”

He shook his head, smiling as you whined at his words.

“No. You’re not ready for that. Not even close.”

He pulled his fingers from your core, and grabbed your hips, pulling you even further into his mouth. He quickened his pace, kissing your clit lightly, before pulling it between his full lips, swirling his tongue around the swollen bud as your back arched. The intense suction aimed at your clit was almost too much, and you lightly pushed your hands against his head, writhing and crying out. He slapped his hand over your lips, your teeth pressing firmly against his palm, as he increased the pressure and circling of his tongue against you. Your orgasm hit you suddenly as Michael dropped your hip, slamming his fingers back inside of you and hitting a spot that made your whole body tense, before melting, as you came in frantic, panting gasps.

He helped you through your aftershocks, eventually releasing you with a pop, and smirking as he looked at you, shaking on top of your sheets, your legs still spread wide. Michael kept his hand against your mouth, feeling your breaths against his palm. You reached up, lightly prying him from you, and lacing your fingers into his. He cleared his throat at the contact, dropping your hand, and pulling the comforter up around you, tucking the blanket into your sides.

You were surprised at how blown his pupils were. How flushed his face had become. He looked beautiful, like you had just made him come, not the other way around. You reached for him, grabbing his face and guiding him to you as your lips met in a sloppy kiss. You couldn’t abstain from slipping a hand up his obviously expensive shirt; feeling his soft, smooth skin as his hips bucked slightly against you from your touch. You palmed his erection through his pants, and he moaned into your mouth, yanking your hair hard as he disconnected your lips, and tried desperately to wrestle back the control from you. He looked almost angry as you softened your approach.

“Would you…..lay with me, Michael?”

Now he was unsure and very young, how you always pictured him. He sat up, pulling off his jacket as if it was suddenly too constraining, before making his way ungracefully up the bed, back towards you. He laid next to you. You lifted the blanket, turning on your side and putting it over both of you. As you threw your arm over him and your head met his chest, he stared at you in awe, though he tensed, and kept his arms stiffly down at his sides.

“Is this okay?”

“Ye-yes. It’s….fine.”

You smiled into his neck as you noticed the effect you still had on your old friend. He calmed slightly, reaching a hand up and wrapping his fingers around your wrist lovingly. You knew you would wake up in the morning with slightly purple bruises in the shape of Michael Langdon’s fingers, and you smiled as you looked around at the false world of Michael’s bedroom.

“Can we stay here a little longer?”

He didn’t speak but kissed your temple before finally wrapping his arm around you and pulling you even closer as you both relaxed.

“You know, I think I’d prefer to have a monster _in_ my bed instead of under it.”


End file.
